


Pit and the Pendulum - An Excerpt

by CavannaRose



Category: POE Edgar Allan - Works, Pit and the Pendulum (1961)
Genre: Gen, Psychological Horror, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 04:25:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10801665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavannaRose/pseuds/CavannaRose
Summary: One of my school projects was to add another torture scene to The Pit and the Pendulum, this is what I came up with.





	Pit and the Pendulum - An Excerpt

“The thought came gently and stealthily, and it seemed long before it attained full appreciation; but just as my spirit came at length properly to feel and entertain it, the figures of the judges vanished, as if magically, from before me; the tall candles sank into nothingness; their flames went out utterly; the blackness of darkness supervened; all sensations appeared swallowed up in a mad rushing descent as of the soul into Hades. Then silence, and stillness, and night were the universe.” (Poe)

In the darkness that remained there was a slow, arrhythmic tapping. Sometimes rapid and close together, sometimes slow, an ominous beat that faded just as it became most clearly audible. Perhaps this continued for hours, the sharp rapping and dull thuds, perhaps days, or perhaps mere moments. It was difficult to tell in the endless, oppressive, darkness. I had nothing but my thoughts to keep me company. Over and over I heard the echo of the sentence that had been cast down upon me. What would it entail? What further torture awaited? I stewed there, in the darkness, postulating a million different ends that could be awaiting me when the light once more touched me face. Or perhaps that was not to be my fate… perhaps all that awaited me was this endless darkness and the irregular cacophony of the tapping and knocking. Though hardly noticeable at first, as time wore on the sound was like to drive me into insanity. I never knew when it would begin again to derail my ever less clear train of thought. I pressed my hands to me ears, trying to drown out the sound. My fingers ground against my ear drums, but still it came rapping along my consciousness. Finally, it was too much, and I permitted myself a single shriek of defeat in the hopes that my gaolers would return to examine the effects of their torment. There was no such luck, merely the relentless black and the distant, irregular pattering.

I had given up all hope of a break in the torment, my mind devoid of all thought but when the next rapping sound would commence, when a blinding light filled the room. As I blinked my bleary eyes it soon became apparent that the light was coming from a pair of lanterns, borne by two stern faced gaolers in their heavy black robes. Perhaps it was wrong of me, but I felt a moment of relief. They must surely be here to kill me, to rid me of the arrhythmic beating that had dominated my life since I entered the darkness. Behind the first two solemnly garbed gaolers, came a second pair bearing a large rectangular chest, perhaps standing as tall as a man’s waist. Confusion swept through me as they stood at the far side of the chamber, the chest being placed on the ground between the lamp-carrying individuals. The men who had carried the chest exited, and, perhaps due to the isolation, or perhaps simply due to misplaced curiosity I drew nearer, attempting to see what was occurring there in that swath of light at the far side of the room. The second two men returned, one with a basket, a soft hissing sound emitting from behind the weave, the second with a cage full of the writhing, squeaking bodies of the common rat. Despite my best intentions, I recoiled, horrified by the idea that was slowly dawning upon me as I gazed at the now rather ominous chest. The basket and cage were placed on either side of the chest, and before I could decide to make a run for the door, the pair of men who had not borne the light into my prison advanced upon me, taking hold of my trembling limbs and dragging me forwards towards the box that was looking smaller by the minute. A cold sweat broke out across my skin, and I would have given almost anything at that moment to return to my oppressive darkness, with only the banging sound to keep me company. This was not to be my lot. The men held the lanterns aloft, so as not to impede my vision, lifting the lid of the chest to reveal the interior, already populated by a dark mass of moving parts. My eyes did not want to make sense of the image, the stretching wings and multi-jointed appendages. It was at this point, I must confess, I began to cry. I begged. Anything other than entering that box. My gaolers were without mercy, and though I struggled, I was unceremoniously escorted before the box and forced inside. They forced me to my knees amidst the insects, several crackling as they were crushed beneath my weight. My head was pushed down, my chest to my knees, and that mass of writhing insects coming ever closer to my face as I wailed in horror, just once, before falling silent lest any of the foul creatures find their way into my mouth. The solemn voice of one of the gaolers echoed hollowly through the side of the chest, explaining how, in one hour, they would add the rats, followed by the snakes an hour further after that.

“I had swooned; but still will not say that all of consciousness was lost. What of it there remained I will not attempt to define, or even to describe; yet all was not lost. In the deepest slumber—no! In delirium—no! In a swoon—no! In death—no! even in the grave all is not lost. Else there is no immortality for man. Arousing from the most profound of slumbers, we break the gossamer web of some dream. Yet in a second afterward (so frail may that web have been) we remember not that we have dreamed.” (Poe)

_Works Cited_

Poe, Edgar Allen. "The Pit and the Pendulum." 19 02 2017. _ibiblio.org._  http://www.ibiblio.org/ebooks/Poe/Pit_Pendulum.pdf


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